


where the emperor's clothes went

by Mayarene Rose (Paradise_of_Mary_Jane)



Series: Ace!Dick Grayson [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Sexual Assault, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 10:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paradise_of_Mary_Jane/pseuds/Mayarene%20Rose
Summary: “You know no one cares right,” Roy says, when he’s finished. He pauses for a while and just looks at Dick. His eyes are older than his face and shrewd. “You’ve been down for a while now and we just wanted to cheer you up. We fucked up with that, but we don’t care if you don’t like the kissing thing.”“I know,” Dick says.“We love you,” Roy says. “We just want you to be happy.”Dick doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say.“We don’t care,” Roy says again.“I care,” Dick says. “It’s stupid and I don’t get it, but I care. I just want to figure out what to do.”In which Dick discovers bits about himself and learns to be okay with it.





	where the emperor's clothes went

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up waay longer than I originally planned, but that's the story of my life, lmao. Please mind the tags. More specific warnings in the end notes :)
> 
> Anyway, happy Pride everyone!

The kiss happens on patrol, and it catches him off-guard, which it really shouldn’t have because it wasn’t even the first time it happened.

Awareness, as a general rule, is a pretty important thing to have. Not paying attention could mean dying, and that’s never good. So yeah, paying attention: important. And so is learning from your mistakes. Dick just hadn’t known he had to be aware of  _ that,  _ not until it was too late. And it’s been a long time since the first time, and Dick hasn’t really learned anything. He still comes out of them scared and confused, and he’s just  _ always  _ caught off guard.

It’s… It’s starting to get annoying. Frustrating is the better word. Terrifying is also right up there.

Dick doesn’t really think about it unless he has to; the kissing thing that is. He just doesn’t. It never really registered as important to him before now. He doesn’t think about it, until the days that it’s absolutely the only thing he can think about because of another mess-up, then it becomes a sort of obsession. 

He thinks too hard about it on those days. He doesn’t understand it any better, but he thinks too hard about it.

He knows, in a distant, clinical kind of way, that Bruce brings the occasional man or woman back to the manor. He’s not stupid and he stopped being a kid pretty much since that last night on the circus. He knows what they do there. But so much of what Bruce does in Gotham’s social circles is a flat out lie, that Dick hadn’t thought much of it. It just seemed another part of the facade Bruce is so fond of putting up.

Apparently, that hadn’t been quite the case. That’s kind of the point, though. Apparently, it wasn’t like that at all and people actually liked doing it instead of just pretending to, and no one bothered to tell him. 

He thinks that someone should have. It’s a bit frustrating that no one did. But then again, he can’t imagine either Bruce or Alfred telling him about it. Maybe that was just that. They were good people, but really, emotional conversations their family did not have. Dick was okay with that.

Sometimes, he still wants to ask, though.

It wasn’t so much a problem when he was a nine-year-old in scaly panties. Mostly people found it a cross between cute and baffling in a way that they couldn’t help but stare at him, while Batman did whatever Batman needed to do, which is exactly what he’d been going for. Attention is an important tool to have in the fight against crime, after all. 

It’s more of a problem now that he’s a fifteen-year-old in scaly panties and everyone started looking at him different. Stopped looking at him at all, red creeping up their cheeks. And when they did look at him, they always look different, the blush still there, but they look at him different. Sometimes it comes with a leer.

It took Dick a while to notice, but when he did, he seriously begun rethinking his costume for the first time ever. It’s clearly no longer effective in the right way.

(The look made his heart pound sometimes. Sometimes, it felt scarier than fighting, though he’d probably never say that out loud.)

The kisses and wandering hands just kind of seal the deal.

It’s--It’s something that kind of happens to him from the moment he begun solo patrols. He hadn’t noticed it in the beginning, either. It was kind of the last thing on his mind when he’s in a fight and someone is trying to kill him. But now, the fights seem to stop for it. Sometimes he’s pinned to a wall and he can’t  _ not  _ notice the way things slow down, and hands beginning wandering down his thigh or around his biceps and the criminal’s grin turns into a leer.

Dick usually kicks them in the crotch afterwards, then punches them in the face for good measure. His heart pounds in his chest the entire time. 

This one happens near Park Row. Anyway, here’s how it goes: Dick was on patrol, there was a criminal, it somehow ended in a kiss Dick wanted no part of.

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you,” the criminal says. For a moment, barely even a second, Dick’s just frozen, and wide-eyed. It’s long enough to have him pinned against a brick wall by his arms. “Don’t you worry about it. You’re gonna like this.”

It wasn’t the first. Of course it wasn’t. Dick’s not actually sure when the first happened, the memory of it lost in the thousands of patrols he’s done, but it’s definitely not that one. It’s a quick peck really, but again, he’s not stupid. It’s happened before. Dick knows what it is. He knows what to do, how to move past the roaring in his ears and the pounding in his chest. It’s almost muscle memory at this point.

He kicks the guy in the crotch punches the guy in the face before anything else can happen. He jumps, and grapples away. Dick hates running but the kiss had made him feel too light-headed. Confused, the way he always is no matter how many times it happens, he runs away. His heart has climbed to his throat. Some part of him wants to throw up.

He has no idea what just happened.

“Robin.”

Dick whirls around and Batman was there, standing behind him, looking furious. Of course he’s there. They were patrolling together tonight. Batman was doing recon. Robin was the lookout and was supposed to make sure no one made it to the warehouse. He succeeded, but he was also supposed to wait for Batman’s word before moving.

Dick’s never been one for following orders. He shouldn’t feel as terrified as he’s currently feeling.

“You saw,” he says, voice hoarse.

A beat, like Batman was trying to collect his thoughts. The fury doesn’t leave his face. He has the look on his face that says he really wants to break someone’s nose, probably a criminal’s. Dick almost panics. He had hoped Batman hadn’t seen, which was a stupid thing to hope for. Batman notices everything.

It was a stupid mistake, and only newbies were supposed to freeze like Dick did. He had been genuinely scared and he doesn’t want Batman to know that. He thinks he’s been horribly obvious about it.

There would be no reason Batman wouldn’t have been there to not see what just happened, though. Because he was supposed to be right there and it had been Dick who kinda-but-not-really went off the plan. It would have been the first time Batman would have seen, he thinks. Dick’s pretty much been alone for the rest of it, and it felt stupid and trite to mention it afterwards. 

Just a kiss. He never thought of it before, so why should he now just because it happened? He took care of it just fine. It shouldn’t matter because it hadn’t before.

_ It shouldn’t matter. _

“Yes,” Batman says. His eyes survey the criminal crumpled on the ground, hands clenched tight into fists. Dick itches to get away from the alley. He doesn’t like seeing those hands, doesn’t like remembering the smell of the man’s breath against his skin. He doesn’t like the way Batman had looked at him, either. He wants to go home and forget this thing ever happened.

“I’m sorry I was too late to help you,” Batman says.

Dick stares. Apologies are a rare thing for Batman. Usually only when Dick gets badly injured. Never for something so small. He doesn’t know what to do with it.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “It was a stupid mistake.”

“Robin…”

“Seriously,” Dick says. “It won’t happen again, I swear.” That’s probably a lie. The kisses, the touches seem to be happening every moment he ever lets his guard down for more than a second. So many people in crime alley with dark eyes and strange expressions.

Dick really doesn’t want to talk about it, though. He’d much rather pretend he wasn’t caught off guard so often by the same thing and just move on. Thankfully, Batman finally seems to sense this. That or he really just doesn’t want to talk about it, either.

“We should go back to the Cave,” Batman says after another beat. There’s a little frown on his lips, which is different from his regular frown. He’s staring at Dick with a kind of intensity that almost makes him want to squirm away. That doesn’t happen often with him. He’s made an art on not letting anything Batman say or do affect him. Dick hates the feeling that he has to run away for something as stupid as the touching of lips. There are more important things.

“We’ve barely started,” Dick says, though it wasn’t quite true. It’s well past midnight. They’re more than halfway done, actually. Batman always leaves Park Row for near the end. 

The criminal had been hidden out in the shadows, probably looking through whatever he’s managed to pick up through the night. Dick hadn’t even noticed him at first. The criminal had been done for the night until Dick had found him. Most criminals probably are, so late into the night. They have to sleep too, after all.

But then, Bruce has his conversation face on. It’s a very specific look. Dick doesn’t see it often. The two of them don’t really talk on patrol, outside of Dick’s chatter when he gets bored, and Batman’s orders. Dick really doesn’t want to go back home for it.

“We’re going back to the Cave,” Batman says. He turns and leaves. He hesitates for a bit again, but ultimately he doesn’t turn back. He doesn’t wait to see if Dick would follow him. 

For a moment, Dick thinks of not following him and just finishing the patrol on his own. He’s done it before. The not following thing. They don’t usually cut patrol short unless one of them is grievously injured, and maybe not even then. Batman never seems to mind that much when he goes off on his own, which Dick’s been doing a lot, or if he did, he doesn’t say so. 

It’s one of the things they don’t talk about: Dick’s growing independence. He’s spending more and more time with the Titans and less and less in Gotham. He goes on solo patrols more often than not these days. He still loves going out with Bruce, but anyone with a head can see that he doesn’t need it the way he did when he was younger.

They’re fighting more, too, mostly about stupid things. There are times when Batman seems to trust him less, keeps him sidelined even when it’s stupid. There are times that Bruce doesn’t seem to want him around at all. Dick gets angrier quicker, like he did when he was younger. There are days when Bruce seems to forget Dick Grayson exists underneath the costume, and through it all, the two of them just  _ won’t talk about it. _

The anger is familiar enough--from times when everything still hurt and the anger was the only thing he had left--that Dick doesn’t want to think about it very much. It’s too easy to let it take over, to let it control him and remember how big the world is and how small he is.

It’s going to come to a head soon, Dick knows, but for now, the two of them are fine with ignoring it. It feels like a bad idea, but that’s just how their relationship goes.

He could let Batman leave now and do what he wants, and Bruce won’t mention it later. He might get angry, but he won’t mention it. 

But Dick is still confused. He’s still not calm enough to be rational. He doesn’t quite trust himself in the streets. Bruce would. Bruce does. Bruce knows Dick and maybe he’ll know what to do.

For a moment, he feels all too young and all too small.

Dick shakes his head and follows. Enough excitement, enough questions, enough scary things, have happened for tonight.

 

~0~

 

They drive to the cave in silence. Dick watches the stars. They don’t usually show up in Gotham, but they’re here now, bright and shining and constant. He feels Batman’s eyes flickering towards him, watchful, and pretends he doesn’t notice.

He makes a beeline for the shower the moment they get home.

“We need to talk,” Bruce says, when Dick re-emerges in the cave in his pajamas, hair still damp. Bruce asked him to go back to the cave before going to bed, before Dick could get away, so Dick did. Reluctantly, but he did. 

Bruce is still in his Batman costume, but the cowl is down and Dick can actually see his eyes, scanning Dick, taking in every detail. He’s still writing his report on the computer, but right now, all his attention and focus is on Dick. They’re marginally softer than usual, though. Worried. A little bit guilty. They’re not furious anymore, not angry. 

Dick does squirm away from the gaze this time. He’s not used to Bruce looking like that. He hasn’t looked at him like that since his first year as Robin, when he was a lot more helpless and a little too angry. Dick’s forgotten what he’s supposed to do under it.

His hand subconsciously wipes his lips before he can stop it. It itches. The memory of the criminal’s smile that was full of teeth that came right before rough lips slam into his is hard to forget. He’d been stupid. He let his guard down for a second too long and the guy got a chance. He pinned Dick to a wall, grinned, said something, foul breath hot on Dick’s skin, and he couldn’t understand any of the words past the roaring in his ears and the pounding in his chest and--

Dick wipes at his lips again, trying to forget the roughness of it all. Bruce’s eyes narrow. Dick drops his hand.

“Dick,” Bruce says, but Dick shakes his head, cutting him off.

“Before you ask: Yes, I’m fine. No it’s not the first time it’s happened but it’s fine and I deal with it. I know it’s wrong but really, so is punching a kid, and I can take care of myself.” Dick shrugs. He’s young. He knows that. It’s not like he invites proper moral behavior from criminals. It’s kind of the opposite of what he’s trying to do. There are guys who immediately surrender because they don’t want to hurt kids. As far as he’s concerned, if you’re willing to hurt a kid to get your way, you definitely deserve to go to jail. And punched in the face.

“This wasn’t the first time?” The question comes out slow, and very stilted. Bruce’s voice sounds kinda rough.

“Not really,” Dick says.

Bruce stares some more. Dick bites his lip. Bruce’s hand makes an aborted gesture, like he wants to reach for Dick but thinks better of it. It’s a strange movement on his body. Bruce isn’t one for initiating touch. Or hesitation, in general.

“Come here, please,” Bruce says, hands twitching again. 

For the first time, Dick notices that there’s this strange divide between them. Dick usually stands much closer when speaking with Bruce, leaning too close to Bruce, initiating touch, arms around Bruce’s neck or his arms or around his waist, if he bothers standing still at all. Usually he flits from one crevice of the cave from the other, especially after patrols when he’s still burning off excess adrenaline. Usually, he’s upside down and moving closer and closer towards Bruce, circling him until Bruce has absolutely no choice but to put a hand on his shoulder and force him to be still.

“Dick.” Bruce sounds pained. Dick’s teeth buries itself further down his lips. “Please.”

His legs move of their own accord, hands automatically reaching for Bruce. Batman never says please. Bruce does, sometimes, though not often, and they’re usually insincere. It’s twice now that Dick’s heard it in the space of a few minutes, and they’re not either of those things. This word sounds like it’s coming from the person that exists between them. Dick can’t actually say no to that person.

Bruce grabs hold of his wrist once he’s close enough, grip gentle, and pulls him close. He presses Dick against his chest in a warm embrace. Dick lets him. It’s warm and comfortable and safe. They haven’t done this since he was a little kid. He’s kinda missed it, though he’ll never admit that out loud. It calms him down a bit, eases some of the tension in his shoulders. 

Bruce notices that kind of thing. Dick’s not going to let him worry over something so silly. He forces himself to relax some more. He doesn’t want a fight tonight.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Dick says. “I don’t really know why they do it, but… It’s part of the job, you know?”

That’s a bit of a lie. Just a bit, though, small enough that he thinks he can get away with it. Probably. He does want to know why. He wants to know what it is about him that makes people do it because he doesn’t  _ understand.  _ He just really doesn’t. Maybe if he understood, then he’d be able to fix it and it wouldn’t have to happen again.

Bruce’s grip tightens. Dick snuggles closer. He’s decided that he’s just going to savor this moment. Bruce isn’t likely to want to have this conversation any more than Dick does, anyway. The two of them communicate better with gestures rather than words, when they manage to communicate at all.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bruce says.

“‘Course I am,” he says. ”I’m always alright.” It’s easy to smile and answer when Bruce asks that question, almost instinctual. Smiles are easy, just muscle memory. Something he’s been doing since he was a little kid. The answer never changes, really, no matter the context because it can’t be the other thing. Dick won’t let it be the other thing, not when it’ll make everyone around him feel bad.

Bruce, in his rare moments of insight, seems to pick up on this fact now. Because of course he does. He gives Dick a  _ look. _

“What happened earlier--”

“It’s nothing.”

“Dick.” Dick takes a deep breath. Bruce’s voice is heavy. The weight of it settles strangely between them. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Of course it was,” he says. “I didn’t even notice him. I should have. Then I froze. It was a rookie mistake.”

“Maybe it was,” Bruce says with a nod. “But what he did to you wasn’t your fault.”

Dick frowns. “I know that,” he says, because he does. What people do are their own, their own achievements and failures. He’s always known that. “It’s just--I just--”

He cuts himself. He should have been better, he means to say. Just because it’s not his fault doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have been able to stop it. It’s happened so many times already and he still can’t figure out what to do when it happens.

It’s like he’s fighting blindfolded. The world feels wrong and it’s like he’s doomed to fall.

“If there’s something you want to talk about,” Bruce says. It comes out as uncomfortable and awkward, but that’s Bruce for you. It doesn’t matter. Dick knows that it’s a sincere offer, anyway.

Offers like those are rare; really, really rare, so Dick gives it genuine thought. Bruce doesn’t seem like he’s going anywhere. He’s terrible at dealing with people, but he listens and he genuinely tries to be there for him. He cares and he wants Dick to be really okay, instead of his kind of okay that isn’t really okay. Dick can appreciate that.

“I just.” He hesitates. It’s stupid. He’s fifteen. He thinks he should know more about this stuff than he actually does. He’s heard the other people talk about it at school, about kissing and bodies and looking at a person and seeing them as something else, something to be taken.  _ They  _ certainly get it more than he does. They seem to like it and Dick doesn’t know if he’s supposed to like it, too. 

He says, “I just want to know why, I guess. Is there something wrong--”

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Bruce says, a hint of a growl in his voice, like he’s trying to scare something away. “They were wrong to force themselves on you. You did nothing wrong.”

Dick bites his lip again. “Okay,” he says.

It wasn’t quite the answer to his question, not really, but he gives it to Bruce for trying. Maybe it’s the kind of thing that they just don’t say out loud, and Dick has to figure out on his own. He and Bruce certainly have a lot of those. Dick can do that. He’s figured out lots of things on his own, and he’s turned out pretty okay. He lays his head on Bruce’s chest and doesn’t ask anything else.

 

~0~

 

Bruce watches him like a hawk after that. More than he usually does, anyway. He keeps Robin close during patrols, barely lets him out of sight. He doesn’t let Robin do as much solo patrols as much, though Dick still goes when he feels the need for it. Bruce seems more upset, more worried, when he does. Maybe he expects Dick to be more upset than he actually is. Maybe he expects Dick to be falling apart. Maybe he wants to talk more and doesn’t know how to say so.

Dick pretends nothing’s changed. He’s not really the type to fall apart. Not anymore.

He wants to tell Bruce that it doesn’t matter. That it’s happened a hundred times before and Dick really just wants to figure out what he has to do so it doesn’t have to happen in the first place. He wants to tell Bruce that it’s fine and that he’s fine, because he is.

He goes to school in a daze a lot of days, but that’s normal. It has nothing to do with what’s going on with his nightlife. If his mind is more scattered than usual, if he has more trouble focusing, more trouble being  _ there, _ well… No one notices, anyway. Dick’s gotten very good at functioning through all the stress.

“It’s perfectly normal to notice the opposite gender at your age,” Mrs. Markle tells them over Homeroom. The class titters. Dick has no idea what she’s talking about. He’s still half-asleep. He sits straight in his chair, hoping the expression on his face looks interested. “You’ll be feeling all these brand new emotions about yourselves and that’s alright as long as you don’t let it interfere with your responsibilities. It’s perfectly normal at your age to fall in love.”

Another wave of giggles. The school dance is coming soon, Dick remembers distantly. He saw a banner about it on the way in. That was probably why Mrs. Markle was talking about this all of a sudden. It feels like it came out of nowhere. Everyone seems to pay more attention than usual, though Dick can’t imagine why. It’s still too early, and Mrs. Markle’s voice hasn’t gotten any less dull. He can’t imagine what could have changed.

He takes a cursory glance around the room and sees the numerous glances everyone seems to be giving everyone else. All the knowing grins. There are two girls holding hands behind him, hiding nervous smiles through ducked heads.

There are also a lot of people eyeing him out of the corner of their eyes. Nervous glances, passing notes to each other. Whispering.

“Grayson,” Warren hisses from next to him. They’ve been in most of the same classes since Dick started going to Gotham Academy. They’re not quite friends, but teachers like putting them beside each other for some reason. “Who’re you going with?”

“Aren’t the girls supposed to ask?” He thinks he heard that in one of the announcements. A special thing Gotham Academy’s trying. Dick doesn’t really see how a girl asking is different from a guy asking, or what’s so special about it, but he doesn’t really care enough to find out, either.

“Well yeah,” Warren says. “But pretty sure you’ve got a line of girls already waiting for you. Bet your locker’s filled with love notes already.” He smirks and winks at Dick. Dick flushes.

His locker  _ had _ been filled with notes that morning, much to his bafflement. He hadn’t known what to do with them. He just stared at the usually pink slips of paper, some of them were perfumed, a lot of them were decorated with hearts, in confusion. He hadn’t known what to do. He hadn’t even really registered the dance at the time. 

How was he supposed to pick? Was he supposed to pick? He wasn’t even sure how he was supposed to answer a note. Should he have written a note back? He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say, though.

“The notes are weird,” he says. Warren just shrugs, unconcerned. Dick shifts away slightly. He really wants this conversation to be over.

“Yeah, it’d be cooler if you get asked in person,” Warren says. “The dance is gonna be totally cool, though. So who’re you gonna go with?”

Dick shrugs. “I thought I’d skip it, actually,” he says. He’s pretty sure that the dance is on a Friday night. Weekends are reserved for the Titans and he usually heads over there after school. He’d much rather be with the Titans than in some school dance with people who don’t know who he really is.

“You can’t skip it,” Warren says, sounding disbelieving. “It’s the best thing ever! Everyone’s going!”

Dick pauses. “Doesn’t mean I have to do it, too,” he says.

Warren nudges him in the arm. “Thought you liked this kind of thing, Grayson,” he says. “All the girls are already lining up for you. Are you really going to let them down?”

Dick takes a deep breath and puts on a smile. He doesn’t know what to say to that, either. He thinks he should be flattered and not confused.

“Are you going with someone?” he asks Warren. Warren instantly brightens and he doesn’t seem to notice the rough subject change because he begins waxing about Mary from two seats over. Dick lets him, listening with half an ear. Warren says that Mary is pretty, that she’s really nice, that he hopes they get to kiss by the end, and maybe even something more. Mrs. Markle is still giving relationship advice in front.

Dick keeps his smile in place and pretends he’s not completely aware of exactly how many eyes are flickering towards him. His attention keeps faltering, mind wandering to the Titans and Robin and other things. Dick’s always had trouble focusing on things he doesn’t care about. It’s a problem sometimes, though he’s gotten used to compensating for it. He wonders what Donna’s doing, if Wally is as bored as he is. Neither of them could really sit still in class, though Dick’s better at pretending he is. 

“Everyone falls in love eventually,” he hears Mrs. Markle say through the buzz in his brain. “It’d be wrong if you didn’t, so don’t feel ashamed of it, no matter what form it takes.”

The bell rings. Class ends and it couldn’t be sooner. Dick wanders through the hallway, mind still on what he’s going to do when he gets to Titans Tower. He wants to train with Garth and Donna. Maybe Roy would even be there, though he still seems to be under the impression they don’t like him. Dick still wants to learn how to use a bow and arrow and he’ll manage to convince Roy to teach him. Maybe even stay with the Titans.

“Richard! Hey Richard!” Dick turns and sees a familiar blonde girl bounding towards him, breathless. Dick stops in the middle of the hallway and waits for her. She’s smiling wide when she reaches him. Wide but kinda hesitant, too. Almost shy. Dick is confused enough to stop his train of thought.

“Will you--I mean, uh--Will you go to the dance with me?” She says the last part in a rush, like she’s afraid she’ll lose the words if she doesn’t get them out quick enough.

Dick stares. The girl, Stacey who’s in his chemistry class, is smiling shyly at him. She’s pretty and popular. A theater kid and definitely one of the friendliest and most outgoing people in the school. They did a couple of plays together, back when Dick still had the time for that kind of thing. He knows that she’s generous and always has a kind word for everyone. She has this way of smiling and then being friends with everyone. It’s practically impossible to dislike her.

He doesn’t think that you’re allowed to say no to people you don’t dislike.

Dick wonders what Bruce would do. Scratch that, he knows exactly what Bruce would do. Bruce is predictable when it comes to dealing with people when he’s not Batman. He’d smirk and throw an arm around Stacey’s shoulder and say, ‘yes, of course.’

Maybe not Stacey specifically, because that would be really weird, but the point still stands.

Dick wonders if he should do that, too. It seems like a logical thing to do. Bruce is always telling him to be his own person, though. He probably wouldn’t approve. Dick never liked copying Bruce anyway.

So then he wonders what Richard Grayson is supposed to do. Dick has to admit that he doesn’t really know the guy that well. He’s a nice, charming boy whenever Bruce drags him to one of the galas. He’s a model student to his teachers. He’s fun, a little mischievous, but mostly a dork with too much money on his hands to the students of Gotham Academy. He’s friendly and usually people like him well enough. More than anything, he’s perfectly predictable. Predictable and a bit boring, when you think about it.

Sometimes, though that was way back then when he was new to Gotham, Richard Grayson is the kid who got into fights and had fire in his expression that every other kid stayed away from. Who was from a rough place and talked and fought rougher. Almost everyone has forgotten that version of him. He’d worked really hard to make sure they forget.

Richard Grayson isn’t really much of a person. He’s whatever Dick needs him to be, when he needs it. Dick’s not sure what he needs right now, though. He’s not sure what everyone’s expecting out of him, so he’s not sure who he should be. Does he have a reputation to protect? Is there an answer Richard Grayson is expected to give? Dick sometimes really wishes he had guidelines for this kind of thing. It can get hard to keep track.

He feels as if the entire hallway has fallen into a standstill around them. All around them, people are waiting for his reaction. Or maybe that’s just him. He’s not used to not knowing what to do. It makes him nervous.

He imagines what it must look from the outside. Stacey is one of the most popular people in school and Dick is Bruce Wayne’s ward, making him one of the most popular kids by default. Stacey is pretty, he supposes, and Dick isn’t bad looking, either. They’re both nice. 

He realizes that he may not have a good reason to say no. Saying that he doesn’t really want to go to the dance, and it generally seems like a really stupid idea, seems to be the wrong thing to say.

Dick bites his lip and says, “sure,” with a smile. Stacey breaks into a grin and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Amazing,” she says.

“Amazing,” Dick echoes. His cheeks feel like they’re burning, though he doesn’t think anyone notices. The hallway bursts back into life, having the answer they expected. It’s a bit like the movies but not quite. His stomach is rolling and his chest feels a bit empty.

Dick feels lost.

 

~0~

 

“I’m not gonna be spending Friday night here next week, by the way,” Dick says when he arrives at Titans Tower that Friday night.

Donna turns to him, then her eyes flicker back to what she’s reading. She looks confused and a bit interested. Her feet are raised on the coffee table, limbs sprawled and lazy. She’s more interested in her magazine than him. Dick doesn’t mind. “Oh,” she says. “That doesn’t seem like you. You’re usually the first one here.”

“A girl asked me out yesterday,” Dick tells her. He sinks down right next to her. 

She looks up at Dick’s words and her eyebrows jump in surprise, which comes as a bit of a surprise to Dick. Donna’s known him for so long now. She’s rarely surprised around Dick these days.

“What did you say?” she asks.

Dick shrugs. He’s in his Robin costume and his legs are a bit cold. Donna makes room for him and produces a blanket out of nowhere. Donna’s cool that way. She always seems to know what would make him feel better. He asked her once if that was one of her superpowers. She just laughed, punched him in the shoulder that was more of a warning than friendly, and told him to stop being stupid.

“I said yes,” he says.

Donna turns to him fully. She looks confused for some reason. Dick can relate, though. He feels confused, too. 

“Tell me everything,” she says, so Dick does.

It’s easy to talk to Donna because Donna is awesome. All the Titans are awesome. Weekends with the Titans are easier than weekdays at Gotham. He really wants to skip the dance and just spend the night with them like he usually does.

Part of it is of course because he doesn’t actually have to go to school, which is great. Dick’s good at school, but he doesn’t like a lot of it very much. There’s too many things he has to figure out on the fly, too many things he can’t say, can’t know, and can’t do. There are so many things he’s supposed to know just because, and a million other things he’s not supposed to. It’s hard to figure out which is which. Being the right person to hundreds of people at once is  _ hard. _

But most of it is just because being with the Titans are easier. There’s less expectation there. He’s just Dick with them, which is a rare enough thing these days that he knows he has to treasure it. They knew him as Robin in the beginning, but the two personas have this way of blending together into one thing when he’s with them. He has no secrets with them, not in the way it matters. Being with the Titans means that he doesn’t have to pretend, that he has no one to please or prove himself to. The Titans see him, the him that’s as real as it can get, and just… loves that version of him. It’s exhilarating as it is terrifying.

“But do you like her?” Donna asks, when he’s done.

Dick shrugs. “She’s fine. She’s really nice,” he say, and Donna’s eyebrow scrunch in confusion more.

“You’ve told me more about the hallway than about the girl, you know?”

“Well there’s not much to tell about her,” he says. “She’s really nice, we were in some plays together, and she’s not very good at Chemistry. She asked me out so I said yes.”

“But do you  _ like  _ her,” she presses.

Dick tilts his head. “Donna, you just asked me that.”

“And you didn’t answer me.”

“I told you she’s fine,” he says.

She smiles at him. Her eyes are alight with laughter, like maybe she’s laughing at him a bit. Like she thinks he’s done something cute. She scoots closer to Dick, until their shoulders are brushing against each other.

“What?” Dick asks.

“You know she’s probably expecting you to kiss her by the end, right?” she says. “I mean it’s a school dance. People always kiss there at the end unless it’s a complete disaster. And considering Bruce and you know,  _ you. _ ”

“Me?”

"You’re not exactly unattractive,” she tells him. “You’re totally a catch.”

Dick makes a face. He snuggles closer to her and she lets him, even laying her head on his shoulders. “What is it with people and wanting to kiss me?” he says. “Seriously? And how do I make it stop?”

Being a catch, like he’s some kind of fish or a carnival prize. He gets the image of a fishing line with a thousand different fish being there, just minding their own business, and above them, fishermen arguing which fish is the prettiest.

The fish don’t want to be caught, though. They’re perfectly fine on their own.

Is that what it’s like? Is it a game? He wonders when someone will tell him the rules. As far as he’s concerned, kissing is pretty disgusting. Granted, he’s not had the best experiences with it, but he can’t really imagine it getting any better. He can’t imagine it not being awkward to shove your face towards someone and push their lips against each other. It will probably more awkward if you actually  _ knew  _ the person you were shoving your face at.

“It’s not so bad,” Donna says. “It can even be cool if circumstances are right. The more important question here is who are all these people who want to kiss you anyway, and why don’t I know about them?”

Dick shrugs again. “It’s nothing. Just some criminals.” And well, there are some people at school, too, who want to do it. He knows how eyes follow him wherever he goes, and that wouldn’t have bothered him so much, except, he’s not deaf either, and he can hear what they whisper about him when they don’t know he’s listening. It’s all in good fun and perfectly innocent, and Dick doesn’t really count them on the same level as criminals. It’s just also really, really weird, and completely indecipherable.

Dick doesn’t know how he’s supposed to react to any of it, is all.

“Oh, yeah, those are horrible,” Donna agrees. “They’re not really the best example. It’s better when you both actually want to do it.”

“I know that,” Dick says, because he does. “I can’t imagine it not being weird, though.”

Saliva and lips and weird positions. Where are you supposed to put your hands? How are you supposed to breathe? In all of Dick’s experience, kissing requires holding your breath a lot, or breathing in other people’s breath, which is never appealing. Dick has no idea how to deal with any of that.

“It’s not that weird,” she says. “When you do it right, it’s really, really fun.”

It occurs to him that Donna actually knows what she’s talking about, way more than he does. She’s been with Roy for a while now, more or less. They’ve kissed. Dick’s seen them kiss. He’s seen them kiss a lot, because the two of them together have no shame. They seem to enjoy it. If anyone would be able to explain it to him, it would be Donna.

“I just want to know what it’s supposed to feel like,” he tells her. The two of them are still sitting side by side on the couch. They’re so close to each other and it feels like he’s sharing a secret to her. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like it should be just that. He can barely understand it himself. He doesn’t want anyone else finding out. “When they’re not…”

“Groping you in the middle of a fight. And you know, criminals I don’t actually know.” Donna raises an eyebrow at his startled look. “What? You’re not the only one fighting with bare legs, Boy Wonder. Man’s world is strange. A lot of you don’t seem to understand the meaning of permission.”

“Oh,” Dick says, suddenly unsure. “I’m sorry.”

Donna waves him off dismissively. “Don’t be,” she says. “I usually just punch them in the face and knock them out. Most of them haven’t met an Amazon, either.”

Dick pauses, thinking about it. Criminals are stupid, he thinks. They’ve been at it for years and they still get underestimated like crazy. Who would try to fight  _ Donna  _ over something like that, anyway? It’s stupid. Why would anyone ever want to pick a fight with Donna when she’s the nicest person who can very definitely and very easily kick their ass without a sweat?

“I kick them in the crotch and punch them in the face,” he offers, and Donna grins at him. She produces a bag of chips from somewhere, opens it, and offers it to Dick. It’s Dick’s favorite kind. They eat in silence for a while, shoulders still brushing against each other.

“Do you want to find out what it’s supposed to feel like?” Donna asks, once they’ve finished the chips. 

“What?” Dick asks.

“Kissing, doofus,” Donna says, with a roll of her eyes. “Wanna know what it feels like if it’s from someone you actually like? Or, you know,  _ know  _ as a person and not just as a punching bag.”

Dick thinks about it. He thinks that he does want to know what it feels like, just so he can understand what all the fuss is about. 

It must feel pretty cool if so many people talk about it so much. He wants to know the ‘right way’ that Donna’s talking about. It must be a really good feeling if so many people are willing to face getting punched in the face or kicked in the crotch for it. 

“Sometimes,” he admits.

Silence. Donna stares at him expectantly. She’s sitting a bit apart now, facing him, body tilted towards him. Dick looks back, a little confused.

“Dick,” she says after a while. “You do understand I’m offering, right?”

“Offering?”

“Offering to kiss you.”

Dick’s eyebrows furrow. “Aren’t you with Roy?” he asks, because he’s pretty sure she is. The two of them get together and break up every other day, but he’s  _ pretty sure  _ they’re still together right now.

Donna shrugs. “He won’t mind,” she says. “You know him. He’d probably just be offended we didn’t invite him.”

Donna says it like it’s supposed to explain everything. It really just makes him more confused. It does sound like something Roy would say, if he were here or heard about this conversation. He can even imagine the laugh that comes alongside it, loud and boisterous. 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure Roy actually has offered at some point. He might have been a little drunk at the time. 

Still, Dick was under the impression that kissing people you know was a one person kind of thing. A bit like a promise. 

“Nothing like that,” Donna says, as if reading his mind. “Because that would be so weird and you know it. More of a friend kiss. But a kiss is a kiss, right? So you could have some reference.”

“What’s the difference,” Dick asks, “between a friend kiss and a not-friend kiss?”

A pause. Dick shuffles on the couch. For a moment, Donna looks confused too. She tilts her head, putting her hand on her chin, looking thoughtful.

“I don’t actually know. There just is, you know?” she says, and Dick opens his mouth to tell her, that no, he doesn’t actually know. That’s kind of why he actually wants to find out. It’s definitely why he’s asking her. She nudges him in the knee before he can say that, though. “You’ll know it when you feel it. I tried with some of the Amazons when I was on Themyscira, and it’s just--It’s just different, you know? So? Wanna try or not?”

Dick shrugs. Donna’s explanation still doesn’t make any sense. But why not, right? It doesn’t seem like a big thing. And Donna said it would just be a friend kiss. It seems harmless. Just so he could have some reference, Donna said.

People are weird about kissing sometimes, though. They always tell him that it is a big thing, a special thing that should matter a lot. They say it’s wrong when it doesn’t matter. Donna says it’s fun, and Roy can’t stop waxing poetic about it. Wally dreams of doing it, and even Garth talks about it sometimes. It seems like it’s a really, really, really big deal. Dick doesn’t want it to be a big deal, though. He just wants to  _ know. _

It’s Donna, though, and Donna knows him probably better than anyone else in the world. She knows how to deal with him, and not to make big fusses over of things that don’t have to be a big deal. He’s pretty sure things won’t get weird with them after this. She’s reasonable. He doesn’t really know why things get weird in the first place. 

Dick shrugs again, steeling himself. He leans forward. Donna’s hand wanders towards his shoulder. She pulls him closer. Their forehead bumps together, and then their noses, and it’s weird and awkward, but they’re heroes and neither of them know how to give up.

Their lips finally find each other. Donna’s lips are really soft, but a bit chafed. He can taste some of the chips on her lips and hints of strawberry. Her breath is hot and humid. His entire body is stiff and frozen in place, so he forces himself to relax. He leans into Donna more and it takes all of his self-control to not just fall on top of her. He doesn’t actually know what to do, like where to put his arms or how far to lean, and oh god Donna’s eyes are closed so does that mean he should close his eyes, too?

All he can think is that kissing looks way more comfortable than it actually feels. He doesn’t think this is the right way Donna’s talking about.

He pulls away and Donna does too. Her eyes flutter open and she smiles at him. Dick smiles back at her tentatively.

“So?” she asks. Dick hesitates, but she just raises an eyebrow at him.

"It’s really weird,” he says, because it was. He doesn’t know what else to say. Leaning forward and pushing your lips towards anything is weird, let alone another person. Other people’s saliva feels weird and a bit disgusting. Everything about the situation is weird. Donna laughs. Her arm shifts so that it’s around Dick’s shoulder. He leans into her touch. It’s a much more comfortable position than whatever they were doing before.

“I knew you’d say that,” she says. “You’re not so bad at it, though.”

“Thanks?”

Donna laughs again, but it’s not mean or anything. Donna’s probably the only person Dick knows that laughs at you and is still really, really nice about it. 

“Don’t think too much about it,” she tells him. “It’s not that big of a deal. You’ll probably be fine for your dance. We’ll even throw you a party for getting through it.”

Dick bites his lip. He’d almost forgotten that that was what started this entire thing in the first place. He’d almost completely forgotten about the dance altogether. He wishes he did. He’s starting to panic all over again.

“You’ll be fine,” Donna repeats. “Trust me, Dick, it really doesn’t matter.”

"It kinda does, though,” Dick says. It looks like a big deal with Donna and Roy, and he thinks it’s kind of a big deal to those criminals, too. It’ll probably be a big deal to Stacey as well, alongside everyone else in school. So many people wouldn’t have been doing it if it’s not important.

The kiss with Donna was heavy and kinda forceful. It carried weight. Donna’s eyes had been closed, as if she was dreaming really hard. Dick can’t imagine going through it and it not being a big deal.

Donna shrugs. “Maybe,” she says. “I haven’t really thought about it much. But I swear you’ll be fine. Do you want to try again? Not with me, though. I’ve had enough friend kisses with you for forever. Maybe--Let me think… Oi, Wally! Wally--”

“Donna!” Dick tackles her off the couch. They land on the floor with a thud. “Donna, what are you doing,” he hisses.

A flash of yellow lightning and Wally is there all of a sudden, looking at them expectantly. He’s fiddling with a yo-yo. Dick thinks it’s a yo-yo, anyway, from the up and down motions Wally’s arms seem to be making. He’s getting better at spotting Wally’s high-speed movements. 

“You called,” Wally says.

“Wally,” Donna says cheerfully, “we’re kissing Dick so he knows how amazing it is.”

“Oh.” Wally’s arm falls still suddenly and, yeah, he was playing with a yo-yo. It is somehow not tangled. It doesn’t really matter now, though. Dick just really wants the ground to swallow him whole right now. “Can I try?”

Donna grins. 

Dick, face burning, buries his face in his hand, completely embarrassed. He is still on top of Donna, effectively pinning her to the floor if she didn’t have superstrength.

Everything is quiet for a while. Dick would almost call it awkward, except they’re the Titans and they don’t really do awkward. He hears Wally fidgeting. Nervously, Dick thinks. Donna’s not saying anything, either. 

_ Oh god.  _ It  _ is  _ awkward.

Then, Donna pats him on the shoulder, and he sees her smiling at him. Dick rolls over so he’s no longer on top of her. They get back on the couch. Dick looks at her and forces himself to smile. Donna and Wally probably see right through it, but they’re nice enough not to mention it. Then, Wally chuckles nervously and sits on Dick’s other side. He nudges him on the arm and hands him the yo-yo. Dick looks up and stares.

“C’mon,” Wally says. “Play with it.”

“I don’t know how to use this,” Dick says, taking the yo-yo.

“Oh man, you’re going to love it!” Wally says. “C’mon I’ll teach you. Wow, this is weird. I know a thing you don’t. You sure you’re okay, Rob?”

Dick opens his mouth then closes it again. He’s not really sure how to answer Wally’s question. His heart is still pounding in his chest. There are still a thousand questions in his head that don’t have answers, and he’s not in Gotham. He’s with the Titans. This is the place where he’s supposed to get the answers he needs because they’re the Titans and they know him better than just about anyone.

He schools his expression. Donna and Wally are staring at him. They’re happy, grinning and playful, but they’re also wary. They’re watching him carefully, waiting for his reaction. The three of them are treading on fragile ground, and they’re waiting to catch Dick if he were to fall.

Dick’s not falling, though. He refuses. Not over anything, and especially not over something so stupid and trivial. He’s going to get over it and they can all believe that nothing was ever wrong in the first place.

It’s really hard to lie to speedsters, though, and Donna will hit him again if he lies. He’s good at it, though. He’ll probably manage.

“Sounds fun,” he finally settles on. Wally beams at him.

“He’s doing okay,” Donna says, arms wrapped around is shoulders. She turns to Dick and tells him, “you’re doing okay,” real firm, like she’s going to make it true through sheer force of will.

And Dick believes in her, he really does, and he really hopes that she’ll manage it.

 

~0~

 

The dance happens a week later, and it’s not really that much of a disaster. It goes quite well, actually. Until the end, that is. The end is just… It’s… It didn’t go well, to say the least.

Alfred frets about it in his way of not fretting, which seems like a very British thing to do. He fusses over Dick’s suit and quizzes him on his manners and smiles when he thinks Dick isn’t watching. He lays out Dick’s suit and tuts when he messes up with the bowtie. Bruce just watches him, and Dick is very aware of the fact that Bruce is watching him. He lingers in the drawing room and Dick can’t decipher the look on his face. He kinda wishes Bruce would offer some advice, but that really would be asking for too much.

Dick is a nervous mess through it, and he almost slips up and has a breakdown before getting into the car.

Dick doesn’t  _ have  _ breakdowns. Not anymore. The world seems intent on proving him wrong, though, and he’s really not happy with it.

Bruce is wary. He seems more resigned than confused, the way he always does when Dick does something he doesn’t expect. He looks like he wants to say something as well but can’t quite figure out how. Dick would really appreciate it if Bruce figured it out, just this once. He thinks he could really use some help on this.

Bruce must know something about it. Dick hasn’t exactly been keeping it secret. He’s good at pretending he’s okay, but Bruce has always been better at seeing through Dick’s lies before Dick can come up with them. And this one’s been going on for a while. It’s painful, even if it shouldn’t be, and Dick is so lonely and confused, and he wants Bruce to swoop down in his dark cape and fix it and take all the uncertainty away.

Bruce doesn’t. He just frowns and doesn’t say anything, like he always does. 

“Enjoy yourself,” Bruce says, clasping his shoulder, when Alfred finally manages to Dick’s bowtie. “And don’t get into trouble.”

“How much trouble can I get in a school dance?” 

“In Gotham Academy?” Bruce says, dark and amused at the same time. “A lot.” He sounds like he’s speaking from experience.

Alfred drives him to Stacey’s house, then to the dance. Dick gives her a corsage and holds her hand and smiles and laughs in all the right places. Stacey’s delighted through all of it. She chatters through it, telling stories about her friends and the school play, and Dick even manages to pay attention. He smiles and laughs and the beginning of it is actually really fun. It goes really well in the beginning.

The dance is all bright lights and balloons. It’s held in the school dance hall, which is probably a thing that only exists in Gotham Academy. There are lights hanging from the ceiling and soft music playing from near the walls. All the students are dressed up like they’re going down the red carpet. It doesn’t make them any less awkward. Nothing on this earth will make high schoolers not awkward.

There are already some people hiding in the dark corners of the room, hands wandering awkwardly on each other’s bodies. It’s still early. It can only get worse from there.

Dick dances with Stacey and she smiles at him. Dick smiles back and it all goes really well. It’s a waltz. Then it becomes more modern. Stacey’s a good dancer. Her hands are soft and her steps are sure. They’re smiling at each other because it’s fun. The dance goes on, and a lot more students go on to do stupid stuff, but the two of them just dance. They stop for drinks and snacks once in a while, but the two of them likes dancing too much to be away from it much.

He almost relaxes even, almost enjoys himself and shut his head up. 

“This is really fun,” Stacey says.

“Yeah,” he says, and it’s actually the truth.

The rest of it passes through a blur. Dick loses track a lot of the time. The music is loud. Everyone seems delighted to be there. Stacey smiles and they dance and eat and joke and laugh.

Then the music goes slow for a waltz again like it was in the beginning. It must be getting late, he thinks. They’ve been here a while.

He and Stacey dance again. Stacey lays his head on his shoulder. Dick is almost relaxed enough. He almost believed it wouldn’t be so bad.

Then, he blinks and they’re suddenly too close to each other. He blinks and he and Stacey have their foreheads pressed together, bodies too close, and Dick blinks. He blinks and blinks and blinks.

Then, he pulls away.

“What’s happening,” he says, just in time to see the look of hurt and embarrassment flashing through Stacey’s face. Dick kinda feels sick. He’s lost, too, like he’s floating in the middle of the sea with no land in sight. He can’t find where he’s supposed to go. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to go anywhere.

“I just thought. I mean everyone’s doing it and we’re--”

Dick looks around. She’s not lying. Everyone on the dance floor is standing too close to each other, hands intimate on their partner’s bodies. Dick and Stacey are probably the only one who aren’t doing that.

“I’m sorry,” Dick says.

“I thought we were--I thought--I mean it’s fine if you don’t want to--”

“We--I’m sorry,” Dick manages. “I didn’t--”

Things go downhill from there.

Stacey’s eyes are wide, mouth parted in shock. She’s staring at Dick. Her hands have fallen to the side. They’ve fallen still. Around them, there are couples dancing around them. She shakes her head and her mouth opens and he knows that she’s about to apologize and Dick doesn’t think he can take that. It’s his own fault. He should have noticed. He should have seen the signs. He’s seen this a thousand times before and he never seems to learn.

Dick doesn’t let her speak. He just runs.

 

~0~

 

It takes a moment for the panic to truly settle in. He can’t go back to the dance, can’t face anyone there, especially not Stacey who was nice and great and Dick just ruined his night and god, he’s such a horrible person--

He can’t keep playing this role he has no idea how to do. He’s tired and exhausted and he just really can’t do any of this right now.

He can’t go back to the Manor on his own, either. He didn’t bring any money. He can’t face Bruce and Alfred, not like this. He needs to be better than this.

He can probably leap through the rooftops, even without equipment and with his ridiculous formal shoes on. But his head’s not right. Too light-headed. Thoughts too scattered. Each thought seems to slip through his mind like grains of sand through the palm of a hand. The world feels hazy. Dick can’t concentrate. It wouldn’t be safe.

He’d probably fall.

His hands move of their own accord, reaching for his communicator, fumbling slightly. Dick’s trembling, he realizes. Only slightly, but he’s trembling. The night feels really cold.

He presses the communicator to his ear. He never not carries it. It’s meant for emergencies but his body is moving faster than his mind can think. He tries to get his breathing under control. It’s too ragged and shaky. He’s not getting enough air. Everything feels too tight, feels too cold. The wind is cold and Dick’s body is trembling all over.

“Robin.”

Dick swallows. His voice is gone. His breathing is still rattling too loud in his chest. His head is spinning a bit. He can’t find the words for anything, can’t find the anything for anything. It was a stupid idea. Everything that happened the entire night is stupid. Dick’s just being stupid and he really needs to get a hold of himself  _ right now. _

“Robin,” Batman says again. “What’s wrong?”

Dick tries to make his throat work, tries to find Robin who was quick and sharp and always answered Batman, but to no avail. He’s just Dick right now, and he feels only like a scared, little boy. 

He hasn’t had an attack like this in a long time. He’d almost how terrifying the moment itself was, more terrifying than what originally scared him. It feels like falling and knowing you’re never going to land.

Batman’s voice always helps him focus when he gets like this, always clears his head. That’s how Robin had been born, really, even before all the crime fighting. Because Robin doesn’t panic. He doesn’t tremble and get scared or anything. He laughs and fights and never, ever falls. When Batman calls Robin, he’s not supposed to freeze up. Freezing means dying.

The crime fighting came later, when Robin is already fully formed and more than willing to take over when things get too much for Dick. 

He’s not Robin right now, though. He’s not even Richard Grayson, even with the fancy shoes and the expensive suit. He’s just Dick and he can’t remember how to breathe.

“Robin.” Batman’s voice has gotten urgent, kinda low and growly. It’s as scared as he’ll ever get to sound. “Dick. Where are you?”

Dick tries to breathe. Tries to remember the feeling of the ground, the feeling of flying through the skyline of Gotham, his grapple lines sure and strong.

“Dick where are you--”

“I’m fine,” he blurts out. “I’m fine.”

Batman hadn’t really asked, but it seemed important that he say so. Maybe if he says it enough, it’ll actually happen and it’ll be true.

It occurs to him, for the first time, that he’s lying to himself and it’s stopped working a long time ago. Come to think of it, it probably never worked in the first place.

“I’m fine,” he tries again and still doesn’t believe it. He hopes Batman does, though. “I’m fine, really. I’m at school. I’m just--It’s stupid. I’m sorry I called. I shouldn’t have. I know I’m not supposed to. I’ll just…”

He trails off. He doesn’t actually know what he’s going to do. He feels young and scared and alone and  _ hates  _ it.

“Dick,” Bruce--because it is Bruce talking to him now. There’s no hint of Batman in his voice. His voice just changed, without warning--says softly. “I’m glad you called me. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Dick shakes his head, and manages to choke out a “no.”

“That’s okay, chum,” Bruce says. “Stay where you are, okay? Alfred’s on his way to get you.”

“Don’t--It’s fine.  _ I’m fine.  _ I’ll get over it soon. I just…”

“For his sake then,” Bruce says. “You know how he worries.”

“He shouldn’t have to worry about me.” Dick’s been able to take care of himself for a long time now. He wants to take care of other people. He doesn’t want to be taken care of.

“We always do,” Bruce says.

Dick doesn’t say anything. He’s sort of run out of things to say. He lets his mind just draw up a blank. It’s too exhausting to try and  and focus on anything other than breathing and making sure he doesn’t accidentally drop the communicator. 

“What are you doing right now?” Bruce asks.

“Uh, I’m sitting,” he says. “On the ground. On the grounds, I mean. I’m on the school grounds. At the front of the school.” Dick hadn’t realized it until now. It’s dark. He’d just been moving, not paying attention to anything around him. The stars are out but there’s no moon. Dick’s leaning against the brick wall near the fences. No one notices him here. He’s almost completely shrouded in darkness.

“Bruce?”

“Yeah, chum?”

“I--I messed things up with Stacey. She wanted--and I couldn’t--I can’t--” Dick cuts himself off. He’d almost said that he can’t do it anymore, but Bruce never liked him saying that. Dick understands. He knows that there are things he  _ has  _ to do, even if he doesn’t like them. There are a lot of things that are like that. He has to do things he doesn’t like so that eventually, he’ll get to do the things he doesn’t like.

Everything has a price. It feels like cheating, running away like this.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Bruce says, sounding almost gentle. “I just need you to try and keep calm for now. Can you do that for me?”

Dick bites his lip. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m really sorry. You’re probably on patrol, aren’t you? And communicators aren’t supposed to be used for--”

“Don’t.” Bruce’s voice comes across sharp and Dick flinches. “It’s fine, Dick, as I said. We’ll talk about it later, alright? Alfred’s nearly there.”

“Alright,” Dick says. He barely stops himself from apologizing again.

Alfred arrives within a few minutes. Bruce talks to him in soft words, making him recite crime families, then aikido moves, then the footwork. It calms him down a little. Dick doesn’t ask about patrol--he still feels guilty for making Bruce cut it short to take care of him for the second time--and Bruce doesn’t mention it. Dick watches the stars while they talked. They’re unnaturally still. Dick knows that they’re supposed to be twinkling, constantly in motion, but he can’t see it. His eyesight is too blurry. He thinks that he may have started crying at some point.

Alfred finds him quickly. Dick knows it’s him from the sound of his footsteps and the way he clears his throat. Dick looks at him, feeling all of a sudden lethargic and exhausted. Alfred’s face is achingly gentle and kind. Dick wants to hide from it.

“I want to go home,” he says, voice hoarse.

“Of course Master Dick,” Alfred says, helping him to his feet.

“Stacey…”

“I’ve already contacted Miss Richardson’s parents and explained what happened,” Alfred says. “They are on their way to take her home.”

“Oh,” Dick says. He wonders what Alfred said. Dick doesn’t even know what happened.

Alfred’s face doesn’t so much as twitch, he just puts an arm on Dick’s shoulder and squeezes. Dick almost flinches away from the touch. If Alfred notices, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything as he shuffles Dick into the car and wraps him up in his favorite blanket. Dick doesn’t meet his eyes. He hasn’t had an attack like this in years. He’d thought he’d gotten it under control.

He doesn’t have breakdowns, because he’s Robin and Robin is always perfectly calm and is always in control. He doesn’t have breakdowns, except when he does because he slipped up and Robin disappears and only Dick Grayson is left, and he’s really just a kid who can’t get a hold of himself for anything. When he does, there’s no holding them back.

He wants to curl up into a ball until he can pretend that things are okay again.

They’re silent throughout the drive home. Dick can feel Alfred’s eyes on him. Dick keeps his gaze outside. He likes watching the stars. They’re twinkling again. His breathing is easier. He doesn’t feel like he’s about to fall apart anymore, mostly because he feels really, really empty.

Alfred takes the two of them through the cave entrance. Bruce would probably be there, still in his Batman costume, waiting for him. Dick closes his eyes. He’s always liked the cave better than the manor, anyway. Bruce is there when they arrive. Dick wants to shrink back into the car and disappear.

But Dick hasn’t run away from danger in a long time. He steels himself and forces himself to go to where Bruce is. Bruce is watching him from the console. Dick tells him that this is just like their after-patrol briefing. That he’s Robin and just giving a report and not Dick Grayson who’s in a ruined suit and who had a panic attack at having to kiss a pretty girl.

Bruce nods to one of the chairs near the console. “Sit,” he says.

Dick does. He still doesn’t say anything, just stares at his shoes.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Bruce asks. “What upset you, Dick?”

“It’s not important,” Dick mutters. “It’s really stupid. Can we just pretend it never happened and go to sleep? I’m really tired.”

“We can do that if that is what you want,” Bruce says, after a beat. “But it is important to you and it’s not stupid if it upset you. Talking about it might help.”

“You’re not really one to talk about open communication,” Dick says. He looks up. Bruce’s face stares back at him, impassive. Dick feels a well of guilt settling deep in his stomach. He looks back down to his shoes. “Sorry. I didn’t--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bruce says. “But talking does help you.”  _ I don’t want you to be upset, please let me help.  _ Dick hears what Bruce doesn’t say.

He sighs. He can’t say no to Bruce, not like this.

“It was Stacey. We were dancing and then suddenly she was moving and then she was--” He stops. His face is on fire.

Bruce is silent for a long time. Dick almost think that he’s not going to say anything at all. Bruce usually doesn’t. But still… The stupid, childlike part of him still believes that Bruce will find a way to fix all of his problems.

“Does this have to do with what happened with the criminal on patrol?”

Dick opens his mouth. Closes it then opens it again. He doesn’t have to ask what Bruce meant. It happened weeks ago, but the memory hasn’t left yet. It’s probably not going to anytime soon. He’s not sure what that has to do with anything, though. “No--Yes? I don’t know. Just--”

“Keep calm,” Bruce says. 

“I am calm,” he snaps.

Bruce’s eyebrows furrow. He continues to look at Dick.

“It’s not about that,” Dick says. “It may be related, I don’t know, but it’s not about that.”

They’re completely different things,  _ Dick knows this.  _ The only thing that brings them together is that, either way, Dick is lost and the acts remain indecipherable to him.

He takes a deep breath. “Is something wrong with me?” he makes himself ask. “I know you said there isn’t, but there must be because…” Because people aren’t supposed to do what he’s doing. They’re not supposed to run away from something completely harmless. They’re supposed to like all this, the kissing and the hands and all those kinds of things. It’s supposed to come easy. “It feels like something’s missing with me.”

“Why do you think that?” Bruce finally asks.

“Because!” It feels like his earliest days in Gotham all over again, when things were happening so fast and out of his control. When he’s just a spectator and people did things that he couldn’t understand. He wants to get angry again, wants to rage and shout and break things. “Because they see me and want something and I don’t get it. I don’t get it and I can’t be what they want me to be.”

The dance was supposed to be easy in the way that being Robin isn’t. Just do it and be he who he’s supposed to be in Gotham Academy, except he didn’t notice. 

He’s fraying at the edges. He’s been playing so many roles for so long, and now it’s all falling apart because of one missing piece he can’t seem to find. Robin is freezing in fights, Richard Grayson is suddenly something other than predictably charming, and Dick’s back to being an angry kid. He can’t mess this up,though.  _ He can’t.  _ There’s too much riding on it and Dick can’t afford to stand out more than he already does.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bruce says. “It doesn’t matter who you are, Dick. Not in that way.”

Dick lets out a breath, chest painfully tight. “Just tell me if something’s wrong with me,” he says. “I just--I need to know.”

If there’s something missing, if there’s something he’s just incapable of doing--Maybe he’s less of a person because of it. Maybe he’s not. That part doesn’t matter yet. He just needs to know if there’s something wrong first.

Maybe he’ll never be able to fix it, but he needs to  _ know. _

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Bruce says. “Of course there’s nothing wrong with you. Don’t you ever think that.”

“But what if there is,” Dick says. “Why is it--I don’t understand. Everyone sees it but me and I don’t know why.”

Sometimes, Dick wonders if there’s a hollowed out part of his chest where this thing is supposed to go. It feels like he’s trapped in a dream that feels too real, while everyone is just real and there’s a glass wall dividing them. They see something he doesn’t, and it has to be him, doesn’t it? So many people want to take something and Dick just stands lost and confused, unsure what he even lost.

Bruce’s hand finds Dick’s shoulder. He kneels, so that they’re staring into each other’s eyes. Bruce’s eyes are wide, worried. and concerned Dick swallows past the sudden thickness in his throat. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Bruce says. “We go at our own pace at these things. It’s not a race. We find our own way, it doesn’t matter how. You will understand eventually.”

“It’s not a race because I’m not running.” Dick is standing still in a world that is in constant movement. He longs for the feeling of falling, of being faster than everyone else, moving past them. Instead, he’s just trapped, thoughts circling his own head. “I’m not even moving. I won’t ever understand.”

His voice catches on the last part. It’s a truth he’s never even dared even think, let alone say. Now that he has, it feels like a stab to the chest, and now the wound is bleeding freely, draining all of the poison out along with all the life. He knows within his soul that this is a question he’ll never get the answer to, it’s something that comes as easy to everyone else as breathing and that he’ll never understand. He’ll always be missing something. The thought of it hurts.

“Then you don’t,” Bruce says. “It doesn’t matter.”

His chest tightens some more. Dick swallows. “I hate this,” he says. “I hate this so much.”

"There is nothing wrong with you,” Bruce says again. “You’re not broken. You’re not missing anything. Whatever you feel is yours and there will never be anything wrong with feeling. Anything else doesn’t matter.”

Dick breathes and hopes it’s enough. It comes out as a sob. His body crumples and collapses against Bruce’s. His heart feels wretched and frayed.

Bruce holds him tight, like he’s holding him together, and Dick is grateful. His entire being feels wrung out, exhausted and drained.

He feels empty. Not in a bad or good way. Just empty.

“Tell me what you need, chum,” Bruce says, against his ear.

Need? Dick hasn’t needed anything in a while. There’s a lot of things he wants, but he knows there are also a lot of things he can manage to live without. He’s lost everything before. He doesn’t need much. 

He thinks he may need something now, though, but he’s not sure what. He doesn’t know how to ask.

“I want you here,” he says. “Please. Just stay. For tonight. Please.” It’s stupid and it makes him sound like a little kid, but Dick’s too tired to care.

“I’m here for you,” Bruce says, grip tightening. “I’ll always be here for you.”

And maybe that was enough. Maybe Dick can make do with that. Maybe he’ll manage to work through it eventually.

Maybe Dick is tired of trying to figure this out and he can afford to give up, even just for tonight.

“And I’m staying with the Titans tomorrow,” he says. He doesn’t need permission, hasn’t needed it for a while, but he still feels like he needs to say it.

“That is probably for the best,” Bruce says. He doesn’t let go of Dick. Just keeps on holding on.

“I love you, Bruce,” Dick murmurs. He’s not sure if Bruce hears him, but it doesn’t matter. It’s real and it’s there and Dick holds onto that.

 

~0~

 

The next day, Dick, still exhausted and barely able to settle his mind on anything, steps into Titans Tower only to be suddenly showered in confetti.

“Surprise!”

Dick jumps in surprise. Titans Tower is fully decorated, a banner saying, “CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR FIRST DATE” on it, and the floor is fill with balloons. There’s also a huge table of food and a really huge, dangerous looking, lopsided cake right on the center in colors of purple and white and black. 

All the Titans are there, even Roy, and they’re all grinning at him, happy and delighted and Dick…

His breath hitches in his throat. It’s already late afternoon. It had taken a few hours of Dick staring into the mirror before he feels normal enough to go to the Tower. He still feels empty, still feels lost, and exhausted, but he’s also able to function, which is good. 

Seeing the Titans like this, so happy for him for something he messed up so bad makes all of those hours disappear and Dick’s falling without anything to catch him all over again. His breathing is too fast and Dick is getting really tired of it, but he’s panicking again and there’s not really anything he can do to stop it.

He notices Wally’s face fall out of the corner of his eye and the next second, Wally’s grabbed him, run him to his room, and seated him on the bed.

“Breathe Dick,” Wally says. “Just breathe.”

Wally’s probably the only Titan who knows about the attacks; Donna might, but he’s not sure. Dick had an attack the first time he worked together with Wally and the speedster nearly fell off a ten-storey building. It had been only a year since his parents. Dick hadn’t really handled it well.

“Breathe,” Wally says. He rubs Dick’s back and the weight of it is warm and familiar. Dick doesn’t answer, just places his head in his hands. He’s focusing on breathing.

The moment Dick  _ finally  _ manages to calm down, there’s a flash of lightning, and Wally is very suddenly sitting right beside him.

"What happened?” he demands. “Why do you look like that? Who do I need to beat up? Can I beat them up? Or at least threaten them? Please? Are you okay? IsthereanythingIcan--”

“Wally.” Dick rubs at his eyes. He’d made an effort to appear normal, and not pale and exhausted and upset, but he’s apparently really bad at it.

“I’m fine,” he says, answer coming automatically.

Wally stops and takes a breath. He gives Dick the stink eye. “You look terrible, Rob,” he says frankly. “I’ve never seen you look this bad before, not since… What’s wrong?”

“I just need a nap,” he says. “I’ll probably be better when I wake up.” Probably. Probably not, though. He had a long talk with Bruce, earlier. It hadn’t really made anything better, just mostly left him drained and exhausted. Dick isn’t avoiding his problems so much as he really doesn’t have the energy to think about them anymore.

“Cool. Okay I’ll leave you to it and then you can tell us all about what happened in your big dance and date. Donna’s looking for updates--”

Dick has no idea what kind of face he makes, but it’s enough to make Wally falter, looking stricken.

“Right,” Wally says. “No talking about the dance. Didn’t go well?”

Dick shakes his head. Wally lets out a low curse. He opens his mouth to say something when Garth’s head pops through Dick’s door.

“You doing okay?” he asks. Dick doesn’t nod. He doesn’t shake his head, but he doesn’t nod, either. Dick considers this progress.

Garth turns to Wally. “Donna and Roy are worried,” he says. “You might want to hold them off. I’ll keep him company.” Wally’s eyes widen, and he’s gone in a rush of wind and a flash of lightning. Dick sighs, burying his face in his hands.

Garth sits down right next to him. “I made cake for you,” he says.

Dick remembers the terrifying looking cake he’d seen. He doesn’t say anything. It seemed like Garth worked really hard on it.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to talk about it?” Dick asks. “Wally did.”

“Aquaman says Batman doesn’t talk about anything.” Garth bumps his shoulder against Dick’s. “I think you’re worse than him sometimes. Just smile-ier about it.”

Dick tilts his head. He doesn’t know if he should be insulted or touched.

“I’m not going to ask you to talk if you don’t want me to,” Garth says. “Though you know how Donna and Roy are. How long do you think Wally can hold them off?”

Dick thinks of it for a moment. “I’m climbing out the window and going to the roof,” he tells Garth.

“Take some cake with you,” Garth says. Dick notices for the first time that he’s holding a plate with a thick size of cake. It looks stone hard. “No offense, but you look like you need it. You look terrible.”

“Thanks but…”

Garth rolls his eyes. “It’s perfectly edible,” he says. “And this is how cakes look in Atlantis, you know.”

“Garth I’ve been to Atlantis and--”

“Oh shut up, Rob.” Garth shoves the cake towards him, cheeks pink. It thuds ominously. Dick grins weakly at him. “Go and hide from your friends.”

“Thanks Garth,” he says, and begins climbing out of the window, mindful of the cake.

“I’m not covering for you by the way!” Garth shouts.

Dick makes easy work of climbing out the window.

His friends mean well, but Dick’s really tired of talking about it. Tired of trying to explain how a thing just isn’t there and he doesn’t think it’s ever going to be. He’s tired. He’s just really, really tired. It’s a funny feeling in his chest, like he’s all alone in a big room. Dick has no idea how to explain any of it.

He sits on the roof of the tower and just thinks. Thinks really, really hard. Maybe it’s like a puzzle. Maybe if Dick thinks about it hard enough, turns it enough times over in his head, then he’ll figure it out.

A voice in his head that sounds an awful lot like Batman tells him that the most obvious answer is usually the correct one. That if he has to think about it too hard, then he’s probably looking at it wrong. Dick furiously tells it that there is no obvious answer so it can shut the hell up.

He’s missing something and it’s… frustrating. It feels like he’s trapped on a high place, about to jump, with no lines or trapezes, with his hands bound behind his back. It’s like a fight where the enemy comes from the shadows of a room without light. It’s like stepping into a tub expecting water and finding a void instead.

It feels a lot like overreacting, too. Dick doesn’t know what’s wrong, even if there’s anything wrong to begin with, so he can’t really complain. All he knows is that there’s something missing and he can’t seem to find it.

“Dick?”

Dick’s head whirls around. It’s Roy, climbing out of the same window Dick came out of. He considers running away, but that didn’t work out so well before so. Roy fumbles slightly. Dick wordlessly offers him a hand in help. Roy takes it, smiling at Dick.

“Wally needs to get better at holding people off,” Dick says. Roy snorts.

“West can’t hold me off for anything and you know it,” he says.

Dick doesn’t say anything. Instead, he says, “I really don’t want to talk right now, Roy.”

Roy crouches next to Dick. “No surprise there, but we’re gonna talk anyway. You disappeared on us.” Dick budges a little to make room for him. He hands the plate of cake to Roy who takes it with a raised eyebrow. 

“You doing okay?” Roy asks.

“I’m always okay,” Dick says. He’s trying to be honest and end this conversation all at once. It’s a hard balance to do, and always ends up tipping towards too much to one side.

Dick is really, really tired of it, but he doesn't know how to stop, either.

A moment of silence. Then, Roy cuffs him on the back of the head. Painfully. Dick glares at him.

“You’re doing your Gotham face,” Roy tells him. “Your brooding ‘oh no I’m angsting all alone’ face.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. Roy just rolls his eyes.

“And now you’re doing your Donna face.”

“I didn’t know I had so many faces,” Dick says.

Roy snorts. “Don’t you ever,” he says, and Dick doesn’t really want to say anything to that, so he doesn’t. He just stares at the horizon. Part of him is grateful Roy is here and keeping him company, part of him just wants to sit alone and brood. He’s still trying to decide which part he likes better.

Roy takes a bite of the cake and winces. “God, why do we leave Garth alone in the kitchen? This is horrible.”

“It was your idea to have this party,” Dick says.

“Well, you’ve been looking like you needed one. Or so Donna says. Garth says you need cake.”

“He shouldn’t have,” Dick says. “I’m doing amazing.” It comes out too sarcastic, he thinks.

“People always need cake,” Roy says. He glares at the cake in his hands. “Though maybe not Garth’s cake.”

Dick shrugs. The sun is beginning to set. He’s exhausted and just wants to curl up somewhere and sleep.

“Seriously, though, what’s wrong?” Roy asks. “We threw the party for you, you know. It’s kind of pointless if you’re not there. You know if you don’t answer me, Donna’s next, right?”

Dick shrugs. The thought of getting interrogated by Donna is a bit scary, but he really just wants to brood right now. Sue him. He can be a Gothamite for a while.

“You’re not gonna talk are you?” Dick doesn’t say anything and Roy sighs. “Alright I’ll talk. There’s something bothering you and you’re not handling it as well as you’d like, so you’re hiding away from everyone. You know you don’t have to be okay all the time, right? That’s why we’re here.”

Dick shrugs again. He almost wants to laugh. If only that were true. He’s spent his entire life putting on a show and give people what they want. Shows don’t just stop because one person feels bad. Dick doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to stop. He doesn’t know if he even knows how to be a person without all the masks.

“Looking back, I think we fucked up a bit. You gotta tell us what we did wrong, though, so we don’t do it again,” Roy says. “We hate seeing you like this and we'd really like to make you feel better." He takes a deep breath. "Okay, I’m done.”

And weirdly enough, he is. He doesn’t say anything else after that, just sits there quiet for a while. It’s weird. Roy doesn’t really do quiet or thoughtful. Quite the opposite, actually. It makes Dick feel a bit wretched. He’s getting worked up over nothing and everything around him is changing, trying to figure out what’s wrong. They’re doing so much over nothing. They’re all tentative steps and wary glances and Dick wants to tell them to stop. 

But to do that, he’d have to figure out what’s wrong and it’s like he’s back to the beginning all over again.

Dick opens his mouth and the words just come out. He doesn’t let himself think about it. He tells Roy about the criminals. About the dance. About Stacey. He talks about kisses and everything Dick doesn’t understand. He talks about the way people look at him, about feeling like he’s lost at sea with nothing to hold onto. He talks about not being whole. About just wanting to understand and never getting it.

Dick still thinks it’s a stupid thing to get upset about, but that doesn’t really make him any less upset. The thought probably makes it worse.

“You know no one cares right,” Roy says, when he’s finished. He pauses for a while and just looks at Dick. His eyes are older than his face and shrewd. “You’ve been down for a while now and we just wanted to cheer you up. We fucked up with that, but we don’t care if you don’t like the kissing thing.”

“I know,” Dick says.

“We love you,” Roy says. “We just want you to be happy.”

Intellectually, Dick knows that this is true. The Titans are amazing and the best friends he could ever ask for. He wants nothing more than to put on a smile on his face and give his friends what they want, so they can move on and do better things. But this isn’t Gotham. The Titans won’t look at his fake smiles and grunt and pretend nothing is wrong. They don’t really stand for that kind of bullshit, as Donna is so very fond of telling him.

Dick would really want nothing more than to pretend nothing’s wrong, though, because there is nothing wrong and this isn’t making mountains out of molehills so much as making mountains out of thin air.

“We don’t care,” Roy says again.

“I care,” Dick says. “It’s stupid and I don’t get it, but I care. I just want to figure out what to do.”

It matters. It matters because it matters to him. And that should matter enough. 

Roy is quiet for a long time. Dick is too tired of fretting to try and break it. It’s quiet below them, too, like all the Titans are holding their breath. Dick wouldn't be surprised if they're spying on the conversation.

“Maybe you don’t have to do anything,” Roy finally says. “Just come in for tonight and have fun. Don’t think about it for tonight. We’ll do Monopoly. You don’t have to have everything figured out, Rob.”

Dick swallows. “And when I do need to have it figured out?” he asks. “What if I need to do something about it?”

Roy shrugs. “Then we’ll figure it out.” He offers a hand to Dick. His voice is unusually soft and gentle. “Titans together, right?”

“Titans together,” Dick says quietly. He takes Roy’s hand and that’s not really the end of anything. There’s still a lot of things to figure out. He needs to apologize to Stacey, needs to stop getting groped by random criminals, needs to keep up the appearances of Richard Grayson, and stop panicking about it.

But for tonight, maybe just for tonight, maybe for even longer, it doesn’t have to matter. He's with his friends and they don't care, not in the way other people care. It doesn't fix anything, but maybe for tonight, Dick can breathe easier and he can be okay with himself.

And maybe he can accept that he doesn't have to be everything, all the time, though that's going to take a lot longer. He can work with that, though. Being okay with himself. 

It's easier than having everyone be okay with something he isn't. 

He can work with that.

Then, maybe he’ll learn how to be okay with himself tomorrow, too.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic starts with a scene of sexual assault, and it's a running theme through it. The underage kissing is consensual, and platonic, if you can look at it that way. 
> 
> Dick has a panic attack. It's not very specific or graphic, but it starts with "It takes a moment for the panic to settle in" and ends around "Alfred arrives within a few minutes."
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://discowlng.tumblr.com)!


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